Don't Tell My Doctor

-


Very posh fry-up at Simpson's-on-the- Strand. In fact, don't tell my bank manager, either.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Last Orders

-
Image
Two teas, milk in one, milk and two in the other; two full English, bread and butter with one and a fried slice with the other, ta… hello… er, hello… service! Waitress… Hello… (We do London pictures here: check out our mouthy sister blog Northern Lines for words.)
Read more

Fleet Street

-
Image
Look up high in Fleet Street. You can still see the London smog clinging to the stones. Look closely at the old Daily Telegraph HQ (at no.135, it's the building that looks like it is auditioning for a starring role in Batman's Gotham City). You can just about read the newspaper's masthead spelled out in silhouette by the grime of the years. Fading with every passing year, but still there. Fleet Street is London's most rewarding street in which to lift your head above the traffic and homogenous shops. It's all in the detail.
Read more

Turned Out Nice Again…

-
Image
“That’s the news, my liege. And now the weather: hail, Caesar!” (An old gag from a mock production of Julius Caesar in the old BBC radio show Round the Horne ) “When two Englishmen meet, their first talk is of the weather.” Samuel Johnson “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!” King Lear Rain all weekend in London. Get yourself down to the best gamp shop in town, James Smith & Son .
Read more